


Dog Will Have His Day

by dragonlandsandyaoihands



Series: Mad Blood Stirring [12]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Doggo Keith, Keith is Kosmo, M/M, No Bestiality!, Non-graphic Descriptions of Animal Abuse, Prior Animal Abuse (Offscreen), Vet!Lance, Werewolf!Keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 07:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17956016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonlandsandyaoihands/pseuds/dragonlandsandyaoihands
Summary: If Keith had been raised like most people, he'd have read books and heard stories about creatures called werewolves. He'd know what it meant to live as both a boy and a wolf. Having been kept captive by scientists his entire life meant he didn't have the words to describe his own condition. To describe his transformations, or his changing feelings towards Lance, the struggling student who adopted him, thinking he was a dog.





	Dog Will Have His Day

**Author's Note:**

> This one doesn't even have a pretense of addressing the topic of heat. In any way. Sorry about that. Feb was a short month and I'm going through some stuff IRL so please accept this :)
> 
> Title from Hamlet.
> 
> If you're interested in reading more of my writing early access, voting for writing prompts, or drabbles that aren't posted on AO3 at all, come check me out at:  
> dragonlandsandyaoihands.tumblr.com for more information in my bio.

Lance loved his family, really, truly. He did. But sometimes, he didn’t like them. Honestly, he ought to know better after two decades; there were certain subjects that he and his father would never agree on and couldn’t comfortably agree to disagree. Their relationship had actually improved significantly when Lance first went off to college and Lance had tentatively hoped that, by not living under the same roof anymore, most of their arguments could be avoided. Of course, nothing was that simple. Freshman year, they’d been remarkably civil, but just when Lance had hoped for more, everything had fallen apart. He’d come home for Thanksgiving break of sophomore year, bursting with eagerness to see his brothers and sister, to tell his mom that he’d finally settled on a career path that would make him happy. He’d been careless, he reflected sourly as he paused to retie his sneakers. He’d stood up from dinner and declared he needed to go out for a run and had barely had the presence of mind to change into better shoes. As it was, the shouts still echoed in his ears. 

“You want to study _animals_ mijo?”

“Do you have any idea how many years of extra school you need to become a vetrinarian?! We’re already spending our savings on putting you through college! Now you want to have more just to pet some dogs? Have you looked into scholarships for that? Of course not! Because you don’t think about shit like that! You just do things to make you happy, never thinking about the cost! Never thinking about everything your family has to go through to pay for it! And besides, in a few weeks you’ll have changed your mind again! Eh? What’s next, huh? You want to be an artist? You want to be a _dancer?_ ”

His father’s face, dark red with rage and the exaggerated sarcasm made Lance clench his fists and grind his teeth. Being a vet was a proper job; one that gave you a degree and paid well! He’d thought his father would be happy that Lance was finally moving on from his dreams that would never generate much of an income. He’d thought his father might actually be proud of him. Like he was proud of Lance’s brothers, a banker and a contractor/carpenter respectively. Lance bitterly wished that his father could have that kind of pride in him too. His feet pounded harder against the dirt road leading away from his family home. His vision blurred with frustrated tears that he swiped away angrily; hating himself for letting his father still make him cry. He was an adult now! Not the same sniveling boy from years before. Lance pumped his arms aggressively as he ran, trying to beat the growing resentment down within his heart. He hated fighting with his family, no matter how often it happened. Even when he _knows_ he’s right. Whatever. It would be the same routine it always was. He wouldn’t answer their calls for a month or two and then his mother would show up, nearly sobbing, and stumble over herself to apologize for his father, trying desperately to explain how he was stressed out and he didn’t mean it and wouldn’t Lance come home some weekend and they’d make it up to him? Just another incident, swept messily under the rug of the McClain family. 

So focused was he on the swirling, unpleasant thoughts, that Lance very nearly tripped over a large object on the side of the road. He managed to divert his momentum in the nick of time, ungainly skipping over the thing and hopping from one foot to the other as he twisted around to get a better look at it. Holy fuck, was that a _dog?_ It didn’t look like any breed he’d ever seen, looked more like some kind of prehistoric, Ice Age dire wolf with how huge it was. Lance had never seen a wolf in real life though; maybe they were all so big. Had it escaped from a zoo? Or was it one of those weird hybrids that people bred for guard dogs that always ended up having health problems? Lance backed up a step, but stopped when he heard a rattling whine escape the thing’s massive jaws. Ah shit, it was still alive. Lance nervously crouched down to examine the creature more closely. Poor thing looked like it’d been hit by a car. Driver likely assumed it was dead, or didn’t care, and kept going. Lance bit his lip. The dog/wolf was very large, but the heaving breaths indicated that it couldn’t move much. Animals that were hurt were the most dangerous, he knew, but he couldn’t turn his back on it. He put on his most soothing voice.

“Hey buddy. Hey, it’s okay. Listen, you probably don’t understand me, but I’m going to get you some help, okay? I need to get my car because we’re far from anything besides houses and you’re too big for me to carry. You’re gonna be pretty scared since a car just hit you and I’m so so sorry, but if you stay here, I’ll be back and I’ll make sure you get help. Can you do that for me? Just hang on?”

The dog whined sadly and stopped trying to wiggle a bit. It lay there, its odd violet eyes unfocused. Lance got up from his crouch after reassuring the dog again and sprinted back home. He went in through the back door and took a few minutes to grab his stuff from his room and a bunch of towels for his car before shoving everything in and hurriedly leaving before any family member could accost him. He saw his niece out of the corner of his eye, but ducked back into the garage before she said anything. He pulled the car around to where he’d seen the dog and it still lay there. He kept the car running and put the seat down, shaking his head at himself. Shit, the dog wouldn’t fit like that. He cursed his two-door car as he ran around to the trunk and opened it, laying the backseat down flat and spreading the towels on top. He’d have to drive _super_ carefully so as to not jostle the dog too much since he couldn’t safely buckle it in. Armed with another towel, Lance approached the dog again. It had turned its face towards the car and was growling softly. 

“Easy boy. Uh, I’m assuming you’re a boy because I think of all dogs as being boys. Maybe you’re a girl. Anyway, it’s me. I’m here to help. Please don’t bite me and give me rabies or tear off my arm. I don’t know if my health insurance will cover acts of random stupidity. Lance gently covered the dog with the towel and then yanked his hands back, heart pounding as he waited for a reaction. The dog snarled, sniffed the towel, and then quieted down. Lance prayed to any saint listening as he carefully started to scoop his arms underneath the dog’s torso. The dog began growling again and Lance winced, but no attack came. As tenderly as he could, Lance hefted the dog up and stumbled, nearly falling down under the immense weight of the thing. But he steeled himself and walked the few steps to the car, frown deepening with the way the dog’s growls turned to pathetic yelps of pain and distress. He laid the dog in the trunk with shushing noises, assuming that since the dog hadn’t bitten him or struggled much that it was either very badly injured indeed or that it had once been someone’s pet and somewhat used to human contact. Either way, he needed to get the animal to a vet clinic pronto. 

He gingerly shut the trunk and hopped in, googling the nearest emergency animal hospital. Luckily there was one somewhat close by, maybe a thirty minute drive from the road he was parked on. Lance valiantly distracted himself by humming every lullaby he could think of to the dog, not wanting it to panic and try to move or to pass out while he drove at a crawl. He didn’t want to jostle anything. It was a distraction for the animal, sure, but it was also for his own fears, both the desperation of needing to save this dog as proof to himself that he was pursuing the right path and of the money he’d end up shelling out for the dog’s treatment. It would be a lot; he knew. A friend from school, Pidge, spoke frequently about her own dog and how his medical treatments were incredibly expensive. Lance wasn’t sure if animal hospitals accepted payment in installments or how he’d hope to cover it. He had an on-campus job to give him a little bit of extra pocket money and help him afford all the textbooks, (the ones he couldn’t download online anyway), but he didn’t think that would be enough. He had $1,000 that his abeula had given him for Christmas, maybe it could be a down-payment? 

Upon arriving at the clinic and frantically explaining the situation to a tired-looking receptionist, some technicians hurried out and helped get the dog out of the car and into the hospital. Lance stumbled through his financial difficulties, growing red around in the ears in embarrassment. The patient receptionist told him that they were partially funded through a charity, and therefore had reduced prices for treatments, and the vets did accept month-by-month payments. He’d need to wait around and speak to the vet working that night to figure out a payment plan. Lance wrung his hands, nodding and trying to make himself comfortable on one of the hard benches in the waiting room. Between the exhaustion from dealing with his father’s casual dismissal of his dreams, the adrenaline of dragging a potentially wild and dangerous animal into his car, and the burgeoning panic at the state of his finances, Lance managed to curl up and fall asleep. Some unknowable time later, a gentle hand shook him awake. He wiped at his face, desperately hoping that he wasn’t drooling like an idiot. 

The vet who worked with the dog introduced herself as Dr. Allura. If Lance had been more awake, and in a better state of mind, he would have flirted with her immediately. She was _gorgeous._ As if sensing that Lance was about to drop some amazing pick up lines, she headed him off and explained the procedures that had been performed, telling Lance that the dog wasn’t as badly hurt as they’d initially feared, but that Lance had likely saved his life by bringing it to safety so promptly. Lance dropped his smirking, flirty expression at the serious tone. Lance had previously told the receptionist that the dog didn’t belong to him and Dr. Allura brought up the forms that he’d need to fill out so that the dog could be transferred to a shelter nearby. Lance swallowed.

“Uh, but…aren’t the nearest shelters both kill shelters?”

The doctor frowned deeply.

“We don’t call them that, but, yes. They aren’t no-kill shelters.”

Lance’s heart sank, anticipating the stupid, stupid words just before he said them. 

“I can’t do it. I can’t, in good conscience, let an animal go to a place that might kill them. I’ll keep him. I have a place and everything.”

Never mind that it was subsidized apartment housing provided by the campus and Lance would bet his right arm that pets were not allowed. Never mind that he could barely fathom managing monthly payments to cover the costs of treatment tonight, not to mention the expense of dog food, toys, and other necessities. Ah, fuck. 

Dr. Allura, understandably, had some misgivings, but Lance managed to charm her enough to get her consent to keep the canine. While attending to him, her technician had scanned the dog for an identification chip, but come up empty-handed for anything they’d recognized. Strangely, they _had_ found some kind of identity chip in the back of his neck, but it wasn’t a brand they’d ever seen and they’d been unable to retrieve any information off of it. Lance promised to put up signs for the missing dog, confident that someone out there must be missing him. The doctor was surprisingly sympathetic to Lance’s lack of financial means and was willing to agree to a feasible monthly payment plan, on the condition that Lance also take her business card and regularly update her on the dog. When Lance skeptically took the card, she explained somewhat bashfully that she’d never seen that breed before, since she’d only graduated a few months prior, and she was eager to learn more about it. She concurred with Lance’s opinion that the dog seemed more wolf or feral animal than anything tame, but the presence of a chip meant that it was a pet and was capable of living with humans. 

She warned Lance to be careful handling him and spent a long time outlining how to take care of a recovering animal. The kind of trauma its body had suffered was no longer life-threatening, but it was severe and, for a few days at least, it would require constant supervision. She showed him how to administer medication and gave him a veritable mountain of pamphlets; resources, lists of help lines, and a promise to check her voicemail frequently if he had any questions or trouble adjusting to the dog’s presence. She leaned back and raised an eyebrow.

“But the calls better be about the _dog_ please.”

Lance gave her a smarmy grin and flashed finger guns laughingly in her direction. She rolled her eyes, but soon became solemn again.

“There’s something else you should know about your new canine friend.”

Lance made a questioning noise at the back of his throat, dropping his hands to his lap. Dr. Allura cleared her throat and looked away.

“He might…be difficult to handle. Not in a feral way, but he may be aggressive or overly-protective of his food dish. He might go out of his way to mark his territory, for example by spraying or chewing up furniture. I’m not saying this to dissuade you, just as a warning. He’s fairly malnourished and unkempt; likely hasn’t been with his owner in at least a week. We treated his injuries, but there were quite a few signs of older wounds in the process of healing and a frankly horrifying number of scars. I’m almost inclined to believe the dog was used by the owner for illegal fighting.”

She pursed her lips and glared over Lance’s shoulder. His hands tightened around each other, willing her to stop talking. He didn’t need more reminders about how in over his head he was. Lance may have done a lot of research on animals, enough to decide he wanted to make his career about them, but he’d never owned a dog before. He wasn’t thinking straight and this kind of mistake wouldn’t just hurt him in the long run; it’d hurt the dog too. Neither of them deserved that. But, as Lance opened his mouth to say he couldn’t do it, that the dog needed a _real owner,_ experienced enough to handle his needs, a muscular technician came out, carrying the dog himself. Lance made the mistake of glancing up, taking in the sight of a burly man in scrubs awkwardly hefting a giant mutt who was currently swaddled in at least four blankets and quietly whimpering intermittently. Their eyes met. The sheer amount of intelligence in the dog’s eyes and the way he seemed to recognize Lance, struggling pathetically to fully face him was too much. Lance’s heart broke. He stood up gracelessly and shuffled tiredly over to the dog, never breaking eye contact. It was like a whole galaxy sparkled within the depths of those eyes, colored the strangest indigo Lance had ever seen. He smiled weakly at the technician.

“Thanks, man. If you can get him back in my car, I can take it from there. I, uh. I think I’ll call him Kosmo.”

The technician helped him situate Kosmo comfortably in the car, tucking the blankets tightly around him. He also gave Lance a cone with strict instructions on how to put it on and to do so as soon as the dog was unloaded from the car, to prevent him from licking or further aggravating any of his wounds. Dr. Allura reassured Lance that the stitches they’d used would dissolve naturally, so there was no need to bring Kosmo back, unless his condition worsened. Lance promised to send her updates and made his first payment, wincing at the receipt and throwing it away immediately. He also threw away the receipts for the wet food he’d been advised to feed Kosmo while he healed, as well as a pack of adult diapers. He staunchly ignored the probing curiosity of the person ringing him up at the 24 hour convenience store, incredulous at how they could be awake enough to even be judging him at 3 in the morning. Kosmo wouldn’t be strong enough to move for a few days and _Lance_ was about ready to pass out for at least 24 hours. Kosmo wriggled and growled, disgruntled as Lance maneuvered the diaper onto his doggie booty and cut a hole for his fluffy tail. Fortunately for both of them, Kosmo drifted back into a medicated sleep during the process and allowed Lance to finish, velcro on the cone, and arrange some blankets into a heap around the dog. He hoped that it would be okay for a bed, but didn’t have long to worry before falling into his own bed and a dreamless sleep. 

When Keith finally came to, there were so many things wrong with the situation he woke up in that he was sorely tempted to just close his eyes and try again. But then he remembered the scientist, the kidnapping, the car crash-everything exploded into his mind at once and he nearly sat up in alarm, adrenaline pumping through his veins again. He yowled in pain, grimacing at the distinctly canine noise. _Fucking great._ He’d forgotten about that. He must have shifted to get out of the warped car, fleeing from the overwhelming terror and pain, the smell of the other man’s blood that made him retch in memory. He whined again, squeezing his eyes shut. Everything hurt; his very bones ached. He tried to stretch at all, to lick his wounds, but he could barely muster the strength to move a single paw and even that was painful. In his limited peripheral vision, he noticed movement and laboriously turned his throbbing head, trying to determine if a threat was approaching. He bared his teeth and snarled preemptively. 

“Woah, woah, boy. Don’t you remember me?”

Keith’s eyes refocused after blurring for a moment, but he recognized the smell. A human. The one he’d been in the car with? Yes. No? They’d been in a car…but it wasn’t the one that crashed. He wasn’t a scientist. Right? Keith’s head swam and he whined again, quieter. It was hard to concentrate. 

“I’m the one who helped you. The name’s Lance. Found you by the road and took you to the vet. You’re still medicated so I’m sure you’re groggy. A big groggy boy, right? Just stay still or you’ll hurt yourself more. I won’t touch you.”

Keith watched closely, only half-registering the words. As promised, the man, (boy? Hardly seemed old enough to be living alone. And Keith could smell the entire living space; only the human’s scent permeated.), didn’t get any closer. He did something just out of view and came back with a bowl filled with something that looked like mushed roadkill. If Keith’s muscles had been in human form, he’d have wrinkled his nose in disgust. The kid stared at him expectantly. Keith stared back. 

“Okay. Maybe you aren’t hungry just yet? Dr. Allura said the medication would just make you sleepy, but she also said loss of appetite is a bad sign.”

Keith whuffled quietly. He didn’t have the energy to move and the hunger pains weren’t so bad. Yet. He could already feel the frustration of being unable to properly communicate with the kid, Lance. If only he could return to human form, he could explain the situation; get some badly needed information that he assumed Lance wouldn’t bother sharing otherwise. Like where they were, if Lance knew that Keith was theoretically an escaped prisoner of the government, and if they were actively pursuing him. Well, surely they were, but how close were they? He was vaguely surprised that Lance had gone so long still thinking Keith was a _dog;_ not to mention having gone to a medical professional who really ought to have known the difference. Keith’s anatomy resembled that of a wolf’s most, possibly a mixture of a wolf and a coyote. Of course, Keith had never seen either a coyote or a wolf, that was merely what the scientists had said. But, until he was healed somewhat and had the metabolic energy, he was unable to become human. And, although he would have preferred to go along with his kidnapper’s plan of living under the radar in the desert somewhere, he’d have to settle for Lance’s care. So, he would have to pretend to be a dog.

Not if Lance expected him to actually eat that nasty shit in the bowl though. Keith may have spent his entire life cooped up as a lab experiment, but he had _standards._ He growled at the bowl. Lance backed away, assuring him that the food was for him and Lance wouldn’t take it away which made Keith growl louder. Wouldn’t take it away? Why the fuck not? Keith carefully shifted his head so he didn’t have as much of the gross smell in his nostrils and closed his eyes, choosing sleep. What kind of person was Lance? Who put food in a sleeping area? Even good food could be accidentally rolled onto during sleep and Keith had made that mistake before. He’d get his revenge though. As soon as he could move, he’d drag that horrid ‘food’ over to where bedded down and leave it there. See how the human liked it. He fell back to sleep to the sound of Lance on the phone, a few feet away.

“Hey Allura, it’s Lance. I know we just came to see you, but I set out the wet food for Kosmo just like you said, but he just growled at it and turned away. Yeah. Yeah, no, he didn’t try to eat anything at all. Oh shit, right the water. I’ll get that now.”

Some scrambling and the hiss of water running, but Keith had already faded off into sleep by the time Lance returned with the large green mixing bowl full of water. It wasn’t until later that he realized ‘Kosmo’ was Lance’s name for him. When he opened his eyes again, the drugs had presumably worn off a bit because he felt the pain more keenly, his joints throbbing. But it also meant that he was more aware, aware enough to notice that a large plastic thing encircled his head. He lifted his head from the blanket nest in confusion. It was thin and flexible, clear so that he could see through it. Why was there plastic around him? Lance must have put it on at some point, but Keith couldn’t understand its purpose. Plus, it itched where it fastened around his throat. He looked around, hoping Lance might appear and helpfully offer an explanation, but the room was dark and he could hear faint snoring from another room. He growled softly. 

Unlike human wrists, canids can’t move their forearms from side to side, or turn their paws at all. Keith pawed curiously at his plastic head binding and gnawed at it to no avail. After determining that the plastic was secured with something like fabric, but also sticky, he was able to maneuver some fabric into the small space and then sharply turning his head while wedging his paws against the plastic. It took some doing, but he managed to undo the sticky fabric and unravel the plastic from around his head. He nosed it away from his bedding and considered putting his ‘food’ plan into action while Lance slept blissfully, but Keith’s strength was nearly depleted from removing the plastic and he opted for more sleep instead. He forced himself to drink a bit of water before though, to keep hydrated. Over the next couple of days, Lance and Keith engaged in a battle of wills, though Lance continued to underestimate his opponent’s intelligence, much to Keith’s frustration. After trying to put the plastic thing, Lance called it a cone, back on and finding it removed twice more, Lance gave up. He couldn’t figure out how ‘Kosmo’ was smart enough to undo the ‘velcro’, and whined about it to the same Allura on the phone. Keith silently considered it a win. 

Unfortunately for both of them, Lance was far more insistent about the disgusting slop he was obsessed with getting Keith to eat. No matter how much Lance sang to him, or murmured encouragements, or anything, the dog would _not_ eat it and growled every time Lance brought him a fresh dish. Lance couldn’t afford to keep buying different brands and flavors; not to mention that it had been days and Kosmo refused to eat. At first, Allura had assured him that Kosmo was in pain and confused. Dogs in such a condition often refused food because the act of eating left them vulnerable. Lance tried leaving the food and Keith alone. Nothing. He tried again and, inexplicably, Kosmo dragged the bowl over to Lance’s bed and left it on the floor, thankfully not upended. Lance _may_ have lost his temper at one point, worried and guilty about being unable to do something so simple as feed a dog, but he realized his mistake the second he raised his voice. Kosmo raised his hackles, teeth bared, and snarled in a way that made Lance realize that Kosmo had never actually threatened him before. Lance backed down immediately. No way he’d be able to take Kosmo in a fair fight and he couldn’t risk Kosmo forgetting his injuries and attacking, or trying to attack. 

Keith knew he couldn’t continue on the way he’d been going. His healing body was fast becoming ravenous; his hunger strike couldn’t go on. He’d recovered most of his range of movement by then and Lance had stopped feeding him the icky medication pills. He had to find a compromise with Lance in terms of food. While mulling it over, he noticed Lance making himself a few sandwiches. His mouth watered at the smell. He rallied, swallowing his pride, and stiffly got to his feet, shuffling over to the couch where Lance sat. Lance paused, mid-chomp, sandwich halfway in his mouth. Keith whined piteously and inched closer. Lance leaned away from him, unconsciously shielding the sandwich. He gulped nervously.

“Uh, now look here buddy. Your food is right over there. And I don’t know why you refuse to eat it, but this is _my_ food. Not yours.”

Keith bowed his head in deference, only barely able to restrain his instinct to bristle at Lance. The human wanted to establish dominance so badly? Fine. Even with his injuries still healing, Keith knew he could win in a fight. Keith’s strength had been vigorously tested and recorded over the years by the scientists. Under any other circumstances, Keith might have considered just ripping out his throat to get to the fine food on his plate, but Lance had been kind to him. Had ostensibly saved him. And, if he agreed to feed Keith something else, might be deserving of more positive feelings. Keith didn’t know how an ordinary dog would beg for food, but dammit he could suck it up and do it too. He must have done something right because Lance sighed heavily and relented finally. He held the sandwich out to Keith hesitantly. Keith moved slowly, gingerly taking the sandwich from Lance’s hand, careful not to bite down until Lance’s hand was well clear of his teeth. Keith finished it in a couple of bites. Lance raised his eyebrows and offered the other sandwich on the plate. Keith unabashedly wolfed it down, licking the plate ravenously. 

“Allura is _not_ gonna hear about this. She said over and over that feeding you human food is a big no no. So this is going to be our little secret, okay buddy?”

Keith sat back on his haunches and cocked his head to the side. He didn’t know whether it would freak Lance out if Keith nodded in agreement, since he was pretending to be a dog. Keith didn’t exactly know how intelligent dogs were, on average, but he assumed that they didn’t understand human speech. Lance scrubbed a hand over his face.

“Right. What’s so much better about my sandwich than your food, huh? Allura said the wet food would be more nutritious and easier on your digestive system, but maybe you miss chewing? Or solid food? We can try some dry food; it’d be a hell of a lot cheaper for me…”

Keith swallowed his shame, but resigned himself to doing anything necessary to procure different food, and he yelped excitedly. Lance grinned at him. He reached out without thought, his hand landing on Keith’s head. Keith tensed at the action, unsure. Had he done something wrong? Lance didn’t seem angry. What did he do to deserve a hit? Instead of pain, however, Lance’s hand began a gentle, stroking motion. Keith waited, frozen, for it to become a blow, but it never changed. Just the repetitive patting. It was very calming, once he allowed himself to relax into it. He gazed at Lance with new insight. The human was willing to share his precious food with Keith, without Keith needing to do anything for him first. Keith bowed his head in shame at his previous willingness to entertain the notion of taking the food by force. It wasn’t Lance’s fault that Keith didn’t like the food he’d been trying to feed him. Keith may not have appreciated being forced to do his business in a weird cloth thing tied around his waist or being fed nasty goop, but he recognized that Lance was doing his best to meet Keith’s needs. The least he could do was show some gratitude. He resolved to eat the new food Lance had mentioned, whether or not it was any good. (It was better than the other mush.)

Life slowly improved from there. Keith’s injuries healed and Lance’s talks with the Allura doctor quickly became a routine of increasingly perplexed and frustrated answers. She’d say how he shouldn’t be healing so fast and Lance would say that he was; back and forth. He was finally well enough to stop wearing the ridiculously uncomfortable cloth thing and go outside to do his business. The dry bits of food was decent, if bland, but Lance added extra treats of cheese or hot dog bits sometimes. The first time, the hot dog had been cut into pieces and Keith had just registered it as meat. When Lance mentioned that it was funny how much Kosmo liked hot dogs, Keith was hit with a bout of consternation and choked a little on his mouthful. He tried to play it off and lap up some water. The scientists had been fond of hot dogs; Keith knew it was normal for humans to eat them. But, in canine form, Keith wondered if it was weird. He was sort of a cannibal by eating them in ‘dog’ form. He glanced over at Lance warily. Surely if it was weird for dogs to eat the unwanted dogs that had been processed as food, (and how they determined which dogs ought to be culled and eaten, Keith didn’t want to think about), Lance wouldn’t have given him hot dogs so readily. He tentatively ate them anyway, unwilling to turn down good food for precarious moral reasons. 

Not too long after, however, Lance decided, for unfathomable reasons, to torture Keith. It had been an ordinary day. Lance had left in the morning to go out and do things and Keith had roamed around the small apartment, napping in different spots. It was easy to get bored with nothing to do, but Keith took the opportunities to learn more about Lance and thoroughly sniff his clothes. He found himself missing the man, more and more, and didn’t want to dwell too long on how dependent he’d become, (or how little he seemed to mind that dependence anymore). On that particular day, after eating dinner and going for the evening walk, instead of curling up on the couch to watch something, Lance retrieved a few towels and a bottle. He cheerfully announced

“Okay Kosmo, you stink! Let’s do something about that, huh?”

Lance led him into the bathroom and Keith hesitantly followed. He only truly felt alarm when he saw Lance close the door and lock it. Lance came in the bathroom frequently to look at himself and play with his hair or get in the shower, but now he did something different. He took off his shirt and started filling the shower with water. Keith sat as close to the door as possible, unsure of what was happening or why Lance had locked them in. He must have thought Keith would try to escape, but why? Unless he was planning to do something Keith wouldn’t like. 

“C’mon boy! Into the bath tub! C’mere!”

Lance looked so excited. With a sudden swoop in his stomach, Keith finally understood the situation. Sometimes the scientists would hose him down to get him clean, although it usually happened in Keith’s human form. It was much easier to dry off with less fur and he _hated_ the feeling of his fur being soaked. But he was still unable to transform and he didn’t want to disappoint Lance. He gingerly stepped over to Lance, trying to beg him with his eyes not to make him do this.

“I promise it won’t be so bad. We’ll get you cleaned up and smelling good and then I’ll dry you off, lickety-split.”

Keith was skeptical of Lance’s ability to do so, but he got into the water anyway. To his surprise, the water was pleasantly warm. The scientists had always doused him in cool water, but he knew Lance’s showers created a lot of steam so he must have preferred hot. Keith allowed Lance to pour water over him and knelt down in the tub, soaking his own belly. Lance vigorously rubbed the liquid contents of the bottle into his fur creating a pungent smell and weird bubbles that made Keith sneeze repeatedly. Lance laughed and scrubbed him harder, coaxing Keith to roll over to he could wash his belly as well. The experience was strange, and Keith didn’t appreciate Lance’s bizarre attempts to make shapes with the bubbles on Keith’s head, but overall it wasn’t terrible. Lance ran more water to clean the smelly bubbles away from Keith’s body, cooing to soothe him when Keith startled and began growling at the water disperser. When the bubbles were sufficiently gone, Keith started to shake his body, sending droplets of water flying. Lance screeched indignantly.

“No! No! Stop, Kosmo! Just wait!”

Keith paused and stared at him. He was still dripping, having only managed to get in a couple of good shakes before Lance stopped him. He panted a little. Lance quickly grabbed the towels he’d left stacked and rubbed them over Keith’s body, fast soaking through the towels with the amount of moisture that Keith’s fur contained. Lance held up his hands.

“Okay, okay, I have a back up plan. Stay put for a second, okay?”

Keith sat down and waited. Lance did something and the water drained from the shower and Lance retrieved the blower from his counter. He directed it at Keith and the air gushed forth. Keith allowed himself to blown dry, though the process took some time. When he was mostly dry, Lance allowed him to step out onto a mat and took the last dry towel to finish the job. With drier and fluffier fur, Keith felt significantly better and was able to actually enjoy Lance’s hands rubbing all over his body. Enjoyed it quite a lot actually. Lance pet him frequently, but Keith was feeling pretty stimulated and Lance touching the insides of his legs and very sensitive base of his tail was one step too far. He felt himself getting hard and he panted harder. Unable to control himself, he launched himself at Lance, knocking him back on the tile floor accidentally. Lance let out an oomph sound and Keith whined, licking under Lance’s chin in apology as Lance wheezed out a laugh and pushed Keith’s muzzle away. 

In his excitement, Keith unconsciously ended up straddling one of Lance’s legs and when it shifted beneath him, he was reminded immediately of his own arousal. He began to hump Lance, whimpering softly. Lance had been so _good_ to him, had even made the washing experience more pleasant. He’d taken Keith in and looked after him, been affectionate and returned home every day. Never hurt Keith or tried to take his food away, didn’t run tests on him or take copious notes on his actions. Keith knew, at that moment, that Lance was his. His mate. His pack. Something resonated with a deep thrum in his chest and he redoubled his efforts, everything so overwhelming and building. He suddenly became aware of how Lance was squirming underneath him and loudly commanding him to stop.

“Off! Off, Kosmo! Bad dog! Come _on,_ get off me!”

Keith jumped off of him in alarm, sniffing at him to see if he’d hurt Lance. Lance sat up abruptly and crossed his arms, glaring at Keith. Keith backed away, tail between his legs. 

“That is not okay!”

Keith whimpered and laid down, rolling on his back in submission. Lance glared for a couple more seconds before relenting, patting Keith’s sternum a few times. 

“I forgive you, boy. I’m not mad. But seriously, not cool. I’m not into dog on human action, no offense meant. I’m sure you’re a very handsome guy and all the bitches love you. But no more humping me or I’ll get you neutered. Then you can’t hump anyone.”

Keith remembered the scientists teasing him about getting neutered and explaining the process in graphic detail to scare him into being well-behaved. Horrified that Lance would bring it up too, Keith rolled onto his feet and pawed frantically at the door, trying to put as much space between him and Lance as possible. He was sorry! Please! He’d be good! Bewildered at Kosmo’s sudden actions, Lance opened the door and watched the dog zip out into the apartment and crawl into his bed, cowering away from Lance as if he’d understood the implication of Lance’s words. No way that was possible. Lance sighed. He knew some dogs enjoyed bathing and grooming, but it seemed like Kosmo had merely put up with it and the hair dryer had gotten him all riled up. Maybe Lance raising his voice at him had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. Shit. Now Kosmo would have bad memories of bath time and the next time he needed a bath it’d be even harder. Lance set a couple of treats by Kosmo’s bed, carefully, and left him alone, not wanting to make anything worse. 

Now that he’d mentioned the neutering thing, though, he couldn’t help but wonder if it might not be a good idea after all? For one thing, Lance knew how many feral dogs and puppies roamed the area and, like he’d confirmed with Allura before, many shelters gave their inmates expiration dates. Lance didn’t want his dog to become part of the problem by knocking up some bitch in heat. Based on his earlier display, Kosmo was definitely driven by sexual urges and, had Lance been a dog, Kosmo would’ve gotten some for sure. Lance didn’t want to suddenly be responsible for some angry pet owner knocking on his door with a new litter of puppies, or the knowledge that those puppies might just go straight to the shelters, courtesy of Kosmo. On the other hand, Kosmo hadn’t shown the other bad behaviors that neutering a dog is supposed to get rid of, like spraying to mark his territory or undue aggression. Lance didn’t think it was a risky operation, but he wasn’t sure and Kosmo had _just_ recovered from some life-threatening injuries. Not to mention, Lance had no idea how much such a procedure would cost and he was running dangerously low on his meager savings. It was something to discuss with Allura, certainly, but for the future. If nothing else, Lance wouldn’t be able to afford it for a few months, minimum. Maybe he would talk it over with his friends. 

He’d invited his best buds, Hunk and Pidge to come over and meet his new companion, provided they keep the information on the down-low, and Lance knew how much Pidge missed her own dog back at home. Part of the reason he’d given Kosmo the bath was so that he’d look his best for his first meet and greet with them. Naturally, Hunk had been fretting about Lance illegally keeping a dog in a non-pet friendly housing complex and what would happen if Lance was found out. Lance had been able to put his biggest fear to rest; the barking issue. Kosmo wasn’t a silent dog by any means; he made a variety of noises that gave Lance pretty good insight, (he thought), into Kosmo’s thoughts. He yipped and growled, whined, whimpered, and grumbled. But he never howled or barked very loudly. Never loudly enough to alert the neighbors, at any rate, even through their thin walls. Until Hunk and Pidge showed up.

Keith had let out one sharp bark when they came in, vaulted to his feet at the sudden onslaught of intruders, and bared his teeth in hostility. Lance had been so good at protecting him. The two humans didn’t smell like any scientist Keith had ever encountered, and they seemed too young anyway, but he wasn’t taking any chances. It was his turn to protect Lance! Hunk had a key for Lance’s place and had let them both in, knowing Lance was likely still primping in the bathroom. He nearly fumbled the tupperware of enchiladas that he’d brought for the three of them at the sound and the huge, aggressive wolf dog barring the exit to the hallway beyond the living room. 

“Uh, Lance!”

At the bark, which surely echoed throughout the surrounding apartments as well as his own, Lance yanked open the bathroom door and came skidding around the corner, sliding into the wall in his socked feet. 

“Shit, what happened?”

“Are you sure that’s even a _dog?_ Did you just bring home a fucking wolf? And keep it? As a pet?!”

Hunk’s voice jumped higher and higher, rising in pitch alongside his panic. Even Pidge looked pretty uneasy. Lance laughed nervously when Kosmo’s growling got louder. He crouched down next to Kosmo and carefully patted him on the head, cooing softly.

“Hey boy. It’s okay. I know these guys, yeah? They’re not bad people. They’re really great, actually. They’re my friends and I wanted to introduce you to them since you’re my friend too. I was hoping, eventually, we could all be friends.”

Lance turned, continuing the petting, and looked at Hunk.

“He’s not a wolf! I took him to a vet, remember? She’s an expert. Don’t you think she’d have mentioned if Kosmo wasn’t actually a dog? Besides, I told you that he’s had bad experiences with humans in the past. He didn’t even try to attack you guys, did he?”

“No, not at all. He kept his distance from us and just stood there. Actually, you were back there, so maybe he was trying to protect you?”

Lance hugged Kosmo around the neck, rubbing down his back more vigorously. 

“Sweet doggie-dog, were you trying to protect me? That’s so cute! Aww, Kosmo!”

Keith endured the sudden baby talk and cuddles. Normally, he’d have been ecstatic at winning such praise from Lance, but the intruders still kept him on edge. He trusted Lance completely and he’d said they were safe, but their foreign smells didn’t sit well with him. He wiggled a little, not wanting Lance to pin him down too much in case he needed to defend him. The intruders tentatively moved a bit closer. Keith watched them carefully. The small one skirted around him, but the bigger one made an aborted movement to hold out his hand towards Keith’s face. Keith’s eyes flicked to the hand briefly before returning to the human’s face, trying to determine the intent behind the movement. 

The whole visit, Keith stood on high alert, refusing to acknowledge the toys the intruders had brought as gifts. He’d investigate them later, but he didn’t want to take his eyes off of them for a second. He learned that the big guy was called Hunk and the little one was Pidge. Pidge talked about another dog named Rover and spent most of the visit watching Keith, cataloguing his behaviors and comparing them to Rover’s. She even suggested taking Keith to a dog park. At first, the idea sounded appealing, but then she got into a whole discussion about how dogs need a pack and like to spend time with other dogs. Keith didn’t know if the other dogs would recognize him as not one of them and out him in some way, or call attention to his otherness. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to chance it. Hunk tried a few times to play with Keith, waving the brightly colored squeaking thing in front of his face. Only when Keith snapped his jaws did he stop, but then he complained to Lance that ‘Kosmo had almost taken his hand off’. It was ridiculous. It was a warning snap, nowhere near his hand. Keith remained on the defensive until the two finally left. When they put their shoes back on, Hunk leaned in to whisper to Lance.

“Hey, Kosmo has been staring at me like an idiot the whole time. It’s…pretty unsettling.”

“Why are you whispering? Kosmo’s a _dog,_ dude. Being able to open doors and cabinets doesn’t mean he can understand what we’re saying.”

“I dunno. His eyes…they’re really human.”

Lance rolled his own eyes and patted Hunk’s back indulgently.

“Sure thing. Whatever you say. I’ll keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t get up to anything too terrible, okay?”

Not much reassured, Hunk gave Keith the stink eye on his way out the door. Once the door closed, Keith went to the window, nosing the curtain to the side. He watched Hunk and Pidge descend the stairs that lead to the parking lot and wouldn’t move from his vigilant pose until he lost sight of them. Lance chuckled from his seat on the couch.

“Boy, you really didn’t like them, huh? Well, you’ll have to get used to them eventually ‘cause they’re my best friends and I see them a lot. It’d be a shame if they couldn’t ever come over again because my dog was overprotective and jealous~”

Keith’s tail twitched indignantly, but he let it go. When he sighed in dog form, it just sounded like a whuff or he was trying to not cough. It never managed to convey his feelings to Lance, so he didn’t bother. He continued to think about the visit and Lance’s words during the rest of the evening and the next day as well, though. Something about Lance bringing other humans into their home really _annoyed_ Keith. He’d figured out by then that Lance had no idea Keith wasn’t an ordinary dog, or on the run, and the chances that Lance would knowingly bring anyone who would pose a real danger to Keith over was slim to none, considering the time and expense he’d gone to for Keith’s well-being. But. The scientists who’d kept Keith imprisoned for so many years hadn’t just been lucky. They’d been smart. Endless measures and protocols put in place to secure him and his room; traps set to thwart any escape attempts. It was one such trap that cost his parents their lives. There was the possibility that they might find him, find Lance, and trick Lance into letting them in. Or, they might not spend the effort; they could just break in and try to take him. Keith shuddered at the idea. He wouldn’t let anything happen to Lance. He had the ability to defend him, physically at least, so it was in both of their best interests to keep laying low there. If Keith had been raised to know religion, he might have prayed. As it was, he focused on prowling the apartment, checking obsessively for anything remotely dangerous. 

It was in that state of high alert that Keith overheard strange noises coming from Lance’s bedroom the next evening. Without thinking much about it, Keith charged over to Lance’s closed door, ignoring the fact that Lance only kept it closed when he wanted to keep Keith out. He paws anxiously at it, listening intently. The weird noises happened again, but that time he recognized them: Lance’s groans. He reached up and grasped the doorknob with his teeth, wincing at the resounding clack as he twisted his neck and pushed the door open with his weight. He burst into Lance’s room looking about, frantically trying to see anything that could be causing harm. Nothing. 

“What the-! Kosmo? What are you doing? Why are you in here? Actually, wait, how are you in here?”

Keith promptly rushed over to Lance’s side, sniffing him and whining. He didn’t smell blood and it didn’t look like Lance was hurt. Just naked, in his bed. His hand smelled weird though. Keith leaned closer, licking it tentatively. Salty?

Suddenly Lance screeched and shoved Keith away from his hand, clutching it protectively to his chest. Lance’s panic startled Keith and he barked once, turning in a complete circle to find what had happened and growled menacingly. 

“Oh my _god_. This is the worst. I cannot handle this, I just embarrassed myself in front of my _dog._ Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Kosmo, that was so gross! I know you’re an animal and whatever, but ugh. I need to shower. A really, reeeeeeeally long, hot shower. With lots of soap. Was that bestiality? No way I’m asking anyone if it was. Fuck, I can’t even google that! Okay, maybe I could, but I’d have to…”

Lance disappeared into the bathroom, muttering to himself about erasing search histories or something. Keith wasn’t paying much attention to his words, though he did wonder what bestiality meant. Some taboo he had violated, judging by Lance’s mortification. He was much more distracted first by the lithe play of Lance’s muscles as he walked, stark naked, and then by the movie on Lance’s computer, still playing interrupted on his bed. Keith tore his eyes away from Lance to get a better look at the movie. It didn’t look like anything Lance had ever put on out in the living room and Keith wondered if the fact that humans were mating in it was the reason Lance had shut his door. He blinked twice as he finally realized what the substance on Lance’s hand had been. Lance was…embarrassed. By Keith seeing the computer movie and licking his hand. Which meant he didn’t want to associate Keith with mating. For reasons best avoided, Keith’s heart sank at the realization. 

He’d frequently fantasized about mounting Lance, or being mounted by him, since the Bath Time Event. He’d found great pleasure in them, but the fact that Lance was ashamed of including Keith and mating in his head made _Keith_ feel shame for desiring it. The guilt sat heavy in his chest as he imagined Lance’s soft skin under his tongue. When he’d humped Lance’s leg, Lance had been quite angry. He watched the humans on the screen with some vague curiosity, hoping against hope that seeing Keith in his human form would change Lance’s mind. Keith had never considered himself on a scale of attractiveness; had never interacted with anyone that he’d thought about sexually before. Before Lance. The humans on screen were a male and a female. Could it be that, given Keith’s undeniable manhood, even as a human Lance wouldn’t want him? Keith whined again, softer, and left the room with his tail between his legs, berating himself harshly. Even though Lance came out later, wrapped in his fluffy robe, and petted Keith kindly, apologizing for earlier, Keith couldn’t shake his tumultuous thoughts. He couldn’t _wait_ until he could talk to Lance properly. He desperately hoped that he didn’t have to spend much longer healing. 

The next day, Lance could sense that Kosmo had entered some kind of… of funk. He wasn’t sure if dogs could get depressed and it seemed very strange that it had come on so suddenly. He’d wanted to call Allura, but the only thing out of the ordinary, that might have been the precursor to such behavior, was Kosmo walking in on Lance enjoying a nice evening to himself and he _especially_ didn’t want to have to explain all of that to Allura. Not to mention the fact that there was no actual reason that the incident could have caused Kosmo’s sadness. Dogs didn’t understand shame, they licked each other all the time, (he was sure Kosmo’d had more disgusting things in his mouth before), and, no matter what Hunk claimed, Kosmo couldn’t have understood what Lance said. Or what was on his laptop. So really, there was no reason to involve Allura, or make them both uncomfortable recounting such events. He could fix this. 

He had the evening shift at work so he could spend the day cheering Kosmo up. No problem. In fact, Pidge had made an excellent suggestion when she’d visited about a dog park within walking distance. Lance hadn’t even known it was there, but, the more he thought about it, the more it seemed likely that Lance being gone most of the day at class and work had left the poor guy lonely. Maybe some other canine friends was just what he needed! And just what Lance needed too. He’d seen romantic comedies. Ladies loved a man with a cute pup. Gents too; Lance wasn’t picky. He’d show up with his awesome Kosmo in tow and he’d start playing with another dog and, lo and behold, the other dog’s owner would show up and they’d start talking, maybe exchange phone numbers, for doggie dates of course…a fool proof plan, Lance was sure. 

The dog park was hell. Keith had to be practically dragged from the apartment when Lance decided it was time for another walk. He was still morosely ashamed of his attraction to his owner, but he couldn’t resist Lance’s pleading smile and the sheer excitement radiating from him. Keith was always wary during their walks; both because he didn’t enjoy leaving himself vulnerable while he did his business and the near constant stream of cars zooming by. They were loud and reminded him of the accident so every time one approached, he flinched and bared his teeth, (knowing full well how ridiculous it looked; squatting wide to shit and growling at passing vehicles). At least Lance never made fun of him for it. Maybe it was normal for a dog to do that. He’d been thinking about it when their walking had lead to a place he’d never been before. He’d seen big grassy places and trees on the tv before, but here they were, in real life. Part of him was keen to investigate, but before he could make a move, he saw the other inhabitants of the park. Humans milling around, running or sitting on long wooden couches or blankets. And dogs. Well, he assumed they were dogs. Keith had learned about other canids, but his understanding was that humans didn’t hug or play with wolves and coyotes. From the edge of the park, while trying to accept the horror of Lance’s plan for the day, Keith couldn’t help but marvel at how _different_ dogs could be from each other. In size, in shape, in coat, in color…no wonder Lance had mistaken him for a dog. 

Finally comprehending Lance’s misunderstanding didn’t make it any easier on Keith though. He followed Lance begrudgingly into the park, staying very close to his side. He surveyed every moving thing grimly. There was no way that Lance could have known how dangerous the place was. The scientists, by then, would assume that Keith was hiding and if they traced him to this area, knowing he’d still be in canine form from his injuries, would naturally assume that he’d come here to blend in. Had Keith been more rational and less paranoid, he could have considered how small of a chance it was that the scientists had tracked him there at all, or that, having raised Keith to be solitary, they’d never _dream_ of looking for him in the company of others, but he wasn’t and he analyzed every human he saw, checking for any strange or threatening behaviors. 

Lance was completely baffled by Kosmo. He growled at anything coming near, human or dog. He never left Lance’s side and totally ignored all of Lance’s attempts to distract him or play with him. What kind of dog refused to play fetch? After it became painfully obvious that Kosmo was _not_ having a good time, Lance began the walk home. He called Allura for some answers, but she didn’t seem surprised by the reaction. She explained that Kosmo had lived a very traumatic life; a life which could have involved dog fighting. Shit, Lance remembered her bringing that up before. The presence of other dogs, especially while Kosmo was still on the mend, would be very threatening and scary. Lance brought Kosmo inside, hung up on Allura and apologized profusely, promising that he’d never make him fight and he’d protect him, the way he should have been protected his whole life. The guilt hung heavily over him and he spent the rest of the afternoon brushing Kosmo and relaxing with him in front of the tv. That night, at work, Lance agonized over his brash decisions, resolving to do more research on handling dogs with PTSD, or whatever it was. Keith may not have been even competent in reading social cues, but he could tell that Lance felt guilty about the park fiasco. He’d never been allowed on the couch, but he laid his large head on Lance’s lap and accepted his calming pets. Until he could speak, he had no other way to accept Lance’s apology, but he could feel the strength in his body again and, soon, he’d be able to transform. He wiggled in contentment. 

The time came only three days later, when Keith awoke from a nap he’d taken after Lance left for wherever he’d gone for the day. Keith stretched luxuriously, rolling happily in the blankets Lance designated as “doggie blankies”. For the first time in awhile, the pain in his bones was an afterthought, not the predominant feeling. He turned his head towards the bowl of food and sighed. He was hungry, but also tired of eating the nearly tasteless hard bites that Lance insisted on feeding him. Even the scientists have given him better food. Keith flexed his paws again. If he could transform, he could get into the cold place where Lance kept his own food. And, the few times he’d begged Lance to give him some, Keith had (re)discovered that human food was infinitely preferable. Mind made up, Keith focused on his human form. After spending so long in his canine body, it took some time and a not-considerable amount of effort. His bones and muscles stretched and contracted. The process was often a little painful and his wounds, though almost entirely healed, protested against the change, but Keith persisted. He’d been waiting _so long_ to resume human form. He could eat good food, open doors more easily, not to mention control the television and read more easily. He’d been very bored with Lance gone so much of the time and while he was capable of using the remote for the TV, his paws and claws were ungainly, awkward. Changing channels and turning pages in books was almost impossible. Most importantly, he could finally talk to Lance! 

Once transformed, he had to rest, chest heaving in exertion as beads of sweat dripped down the back of his neck. He laid, panting, on the cool floor for some minutes, trying to get his breath back. He could have fallen back asleep, but the transformation always took a lot of energy so the slight hunger from before had become a ravenously growling in his belly. He mustered the energy to stand and wobbled his way into the kitchen, using the walls for support. His muscles were okay, but he’d forgotten how to balance on two feet. He resolved to practice, once he’d gotten some food. He opened the door for the cold food storage, relishing the lower temperature on his over-heated skin. He saw a plate of the things Lance had been eating the night before and nabbed one, taking a cautious bite. It had meat in it, was a little crunchy, and was _delicious._ He stood there, gorging himself on the long skinny meat things, hardly caring how they tasted at that point. So absorbed in eating was he that Keith failed to hear or notice Lance coming home and rounding the corner into the kitchen. The scream snapped Keith out of his food haze. 

“What the fuck? Who are you? Why are you naked? How did you get in? Are you robbing me? Fuck! Get out of here! Oh my God! Wait, are you gonna hurt me? Shit, shit, shit! I have a giant, ferocious dog, you know! Oh, oh, Kosmo! Kosmo! Where are you? Kosmo!”

The sheer panic in Lance’s voice overrode any good sense Keith might have otherwise displayed. The way he called for Kosmo, needed him to defend their home, spoke to a primal instinct in Keith’s chest and he took a few steps away from the fridge, dropping to the ground and quickly transforming back into canine form. He whined and walked over to where Lance stood, shaking. He’d dropped the bags he’d been carrying and stared at Keith in the exact way Keith had hoped to never see. With blatant fear. Like Keith wasn’t his beloved Kosmo anymore. Just a monster. Keith backed away, tucking his tail between his legs and cowering from Lance who would surely start kicking him and yelling. Instead, Lance took a seat on the couch, calling hesitantly for Kosmo to come. Keith was clearly a glutton for punishment because he slinked into the living room after Lance without protest. Lance scrubbed his hands over his face violently, pulling his hair.

“I just saw-no. No! I didn’t see it. There wasn’t some guy in my kitchen, some naked guy demolishing my left-over taquitos in the fridge because that doesn’t make any sense. The door was locked, I never open my windows, nothing is broken. And he definitely did _not_ turn into Kosmo. That’s totally ridiculous right? Yeah. I must be coming down with something. Or, uh, isn’t this the age when people can have psychotic breaks? Like I’ve always been schizophrenic but never knew until now? I don’t want to be crazy. Oh, God, I can’t be crazy. It was so real though! No way I’m dreaming, I just can’t be…”

Once it became obvious that Lance only wanted to have a nervous breakdown and didn’t plan on being violent, Keith nuzzled into Lance’s hands, licking them gently. Lance responded by mindlessly petting Keith, seeking comfort in his thick, luxurious fur. After some time, Lance trailed off and Keith sensed that he’d calmed down a little. He had no idea how to make a smoother transition. He couldn’t control the speed of his transformation at all, but he moved back from Lance a bit and assumed as much of a non-threatening position as possible. He became human again on his back, stomach turned towards the ceiling in submission. He panted from exertion and laid, motionless on the floor. Lance choked and stood in alarm.

“Jesus, what! The fuck?”

“It’s me. It’s your Kosmo. I promise. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Keith’s voice was raspy and he formed his words with care. Lance paced back and forth for a few minutes, ranting about hallucinations and how _insane_ this was. Keith waited patiently until Lance had exhausted himself enough to sit down again. He recognized that there was no point in talking until Lance had somewhat accepted his presence. It took time, hours of them talking, hesitantly at first. Keith explained his real name and that he’d grown up in a facility of scientists constantly monitoring him. That he was scared and didn’t want to go back. How the only other person he’d ever met who transformed like him was his mother, but she had been killed by the scientists for trying to escape. At one point, unsure how to respond, Lance awkwardly asked why Keith was still sitting on the floor. Keith blinked.

“I’m not allowed on the couch. You said so.”

Lance let out a slightly hysterical laugh.

“Uh, well that’s in dog form. You can sit here as a human.”

Keith didn’t mind sitting on the floor, but it seemed important to Lance so he clambered up onto the couch. Lance glanced at him and then flushed. 

“Ah fuck. I just remembered that time you came busting in on me and licked my hand. Shit. Why did I just bring that up? This is the worst. God, that is so much _weirder_ now, now that I know you’re a-… Wait, what are you?”

“I’m a Keith.”

“I mean what’s your species called?”

“I don’t know. I’m just me. My parents and I were called ‘specimens’ but I think that just means anything under surveillance.”

“Right. Yeah. That’s really rough, man. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve taken very good care of me.”

Keith decided to let the gross mush Lance had initially tried to feed him slide since Lance seemed so upset about the entire conversation. Lance, on the other hand, presented with an attractive person trying to have a meaningful talk with him, reacted in typical fashion.

“Baby, I’d take care of you so good.”

He immediately retracted his finger guns with a cough, horrified. 

“Shit, sorry. Um, that’s my bad. You’re just, uh, really cute and really naked, sitting on my couch and uh-“

Lance raised and lowered his hand frantically, gesturing to Keith as a whole. Keith cocked his head to the side in confusion. Lance thought that if Keith’s mannerisms always reminded him of Kosmo he’d never have another erection again. Fantasizing about a dog-boy, well done. He always suspected that he might be a furry, but this was _ridiculous._

“I just mean, that time after your bath when you were getting real friendly with my leg, that was like a dominance thing? Cause, you could definitely do better than that.”

Keith furrowed his eyebrows, trying to parse the meaning.

“I liked humping your leg. It wasn’t for dominance; I wanted to mate you. You didn’t like it, so I didn’t do it again. I know you like girls anyway.”

“Uh, well hold on, buddy. My objection was that you were, you know, _a dog._ I don’t discriminate; I like girls and boys just fine. But they have to be human for me to be interested. Or look like a human. In a generally humanoid shape.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other, both waiting for the other one to say something first. Anything to indicate the direction of the conversation. Keith finally grew impatient with it.

“Are you going to ask me more questions or do you want to mate now?”

Lance’s face flushed a charming dark red and he stuttered.

“I mean, I definitely have more things I need to ask you. We’re not done talking. There’s a lot we have to figure out about how to protect you and keep the scientists from finding you…and s-stuff…but well, right now? Maybe we could uh…?”

He let his eyes rove over Keith’s body meaningfully. Keith was suddenly aware of his nakedness and the way Lance licked his lips. The way Keith wanted to lick Lance’s lips. 

“Yeah.”

Lance took Keith by the hand and led him into the bedroom, settling on his bed expectantly. Keith hovered, uncertain.

“Oh! You’re allowed up here too. Just not as a dog.”

Keith immediately tackled Lance onto the bed and succumbed to the desires he’d been harboring for weeks. He nuzzled into the crook of his neck, letting Lance’s scent engulf his senses. He nipped at Lance’s soft flesh, drawing out a choked moan and Lance struggling beneath him to yank his clothes off. Keith was instantly gratified and took advantage of the bared skin, lapping at every inch revealed. When Lance _finally_ managed to wiggle entirely out of his pants, (and then the secondary layer beneath them which Keith still didn’t understand the purpose of), Keith dove between his legs, mouthing at his fast hardening cock. He lapped at it, uncaring of the excess drool dribbling down his chin. Lance let out the most beautiful noises, his hips occasionally jumping up and smearing the precum on Keith’s cheeks. Lance rubbed his thumb over Keith’s lips when he stopped for a breath, eyes lit up and chest splotched with red. Keith whined and reached back to where his own dick ached, trying to get some relief. Lance watched eagerly.  
  
Sensing his captive audience, Keith clambered around so his ass faced Lance and he arched his back, presenting his hole. He laid down so that his face slid against the soft blankets underneath his body and he grasped his cock, moving his fingers around it in teasing strokes. He heard Lance inhale sharply and sit up. Suddenly, hands were on Keith’s ass, kneading and spreading it, encouraging him to relax the muscles in his thighs and let them open more. He obeyed with a shudder. Lance pet the sensitive insides of his legs, relishing the soft grunts of surprise and pleasure Keith released.  
  
“Okay, let me just grab some supplies.”  
  
Lance’s voice was rough and breathless. Keith leaned to one side, trying to see what Lance was rummaging around in the drawer of his bedside table for. He emerged with a triumphant sound a few seconds later and clicked open a bottle. Keith watched curiously. Lance brought a single finger forward and massaged the cool gel around Keith’s hole. Keith pushed into the weird sensation and Lance rewarded him by murmuring praise and slipping the finger inside. He thrust the finger a few times before allowing another one in, scissoring Keith wider. Keith groaned in impatience.  
  
“What are you doing? Why aren’t you mounting me?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“I saw! In the computer movie of the humans. One mounts the other.”  
  
“Wait you watched porn? When? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Well yeah, but you can’t just jump straight into the, ah, mounting, so to speak. There’s, you know, prep!”  
  
“No, I don’t know.”  
  
“Okay! Okay. Right. So, I’m doing this bit here to help your body relax. Because I don’t want to accidentally hurt you. It’s something you do when you really care about the other person. They didn’t show it in p-I mean the computer movie because it’s intimate. And everyone knows you do it first, but it’s not as exciting to watch as the, uh, mounting part. They skip it in the movie.”  
  
Conceding to Lance’s obviously superior knowledge of human mating rituals, and occupied with the fluttering of his heart when Lance explained that he really cared about him, Keith did his best to relax and not argue with Lance’s ministrations. As it turned out, Lance was just as good as Keith had hoped. His nerves felt electrified when Lance finally bottomed out inside of him and every plea to go faster, harder, was met with enthusiastic response. The primal sounds of flesh slapping together spurred them on and soon Keith lifted his head to yelp with satisfaction. Lance’s hands gripped Keith’s hips harder, snapping into him and chasing his own release. Keith yelped again as his body was overstimulated, nearly to the point of pain, before Lance eventually ground forward, shoving in as deeply as possible and bit down on the juncture of Keith’s neck and shoulder. His arms collapsed from where they held him up and they both fell into a confused tangle of sweaty, sated limbs. Lance promptly curled his arms and legs around Keith and he allowed it for a few minutes while the last shivers of electricity zinged through his veins. He licked the underside of Lance’s chin affectionately and Lance giggled, running his fingers through Keith’s hair. After a few minutes, Lance nudged Keith to get them face to face.

“How are you feeling now? Anything sore?”

Keith pondered the question, before announcing:

“I have to poop.”

Lance snorted with laughter and unwrapped his arms, gesturing grandly at the doorway to the bathroom. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you. Please. Just don’t go outside and shit on someone’s lawn.”

Keith swatted at Lance’s arm and stood with a slight wobble. He knew how to use a toilet. He wasn’t a total animal. Lance called after him to add insult to injury.

“And use toilet paper! It’s important for humans!”

Keith darkly considered not using any in revenge, but the sound of Lance rolling out of bed and padding softly after him was enough of a distraction. He glanced over his shoulder. Lance leaned casually against the bedroom’s door frame. The light from the lamp backlit him in a way that made the residual sweat and other fluids glisten. Keith’s mouth watered anew. 

“And, when you’re done, we could get in the shower together? Let me wash your back.”

Lance smirked suggestively. Keith frowned in muted horror.

“A bath? Lance! No! I just had a bath! I don’t want another! Wh-what did I do wrong?!”


End file.
